


Gun Cleaning

by ZhoraKys



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhoraKys/pseuds/ZhoraKys
Summary: Jigen's a horny bastard. Good thing he has Goemon with him as backup.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke
Comments: 9
Kudos: 142





	Gun Cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a companion piece to [Sword Polishing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793304)

"You _are_ a terrible liar." 

Jigen grinned around his cigarette.

Goemon glanced away, cursing silently as his cheeks went red. 

"Why are you even trying to hide it, huh? I mean… it's not like we've never…"

" _Obviously_ this is not an ideal time, Jigen. Whether it would make me feel better is irrelevant, as it's not happening."

"Spoilsport," said Jigen, blowing smoke toward Goemon. 

They were standing on the roof of the second-tallest building in the little Italian village where they'd been holed up for the past three weeks. Downwind, to the east, was the museum currently housing the world's largest opal; the gem sitting on a little black cushion under a cube of bulletproof glass, pristine, just _waiting_ to be deflowered by Lupin's sticky fingers. 

Jigen sat down and checked the scope on his rifle for the 18th time that night. He glanced at his watch. Lupin wasn't due to give the signal for another hour, but the darkness and the silence up here, so removed from the bustle of the city down below, was making Jigen antsy. 

"How do you do it, huh?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Meditate." Jigen flicked his cigarette butt off the edge of the roof, watching it tumble to the sidewalk below. _Careless._

"I've told you, it's simply a matter of sitting down, clearing your head, and focusing on your breathing. If you'd just _try_ …"

Jigen paused and drew in a lungful of clear, tasteless night air. Then he coughed it out and reached into his breast pocket for his pack of cigarettes, waving it toward Goemon until the samurai shook his head as he always did. 

"I admire your restraint," Jigen said, lighting a match. "...you do look fucking _hot_ when you smoke, though."

Goemon reddened further. "Aren't you concerned that someone will notice the flame?"

"Nah. Even if someone does, smoking on the roof isn't illegal."

"Mm."

A moment ticked by silently. Jigen checked the scope again. Perhaps, he mused, double checking the components of one's gun could also be a kind of meditation. 

He leaned back and looked up at Goemon. The samurai's body was tense -- though Goemon carried himself with an air of control at all times, Jigen knew his body well enough to see when he was uncomfortable. They didn't really need him for this job -- Lupin and Jigen had things pretty well locked down -- but Goemon liked to be the one to say no to a gig, not the other way around. Jigen had vouched for him to come as backup. But that meant Goemon was now here without a clear objective, unable to properly meditate, bored and anxious and too proud to do anything about it.

_Stubborn as a mule_ , though Jigen, smiling. _Much prettier, though_.

"You know…" said Jigen after a while. Then, "Nevermind."

Goemon bit. "What?"

Jigen laughed. "Well, um… if I was staking out up here by myself I might jerk off right now."

"That seems dangerous."

"Heh. I mean… everything's set up. I've got an hour. If Lupin calls I can still answer the cell. What's so dangerous?"

"Wouldn't you… lose track of time?"

"Jeez, Goemon, even _you_ don't last _that_ long."

"Hmph. I see what you're trying to do, and it won't work."

"Alright! Have it your way. I just thought it might be fun."

Jigen looked at his watch again. Only ten minutes had passed. Now he'd gotten the thought in his head, he couldn't get it out. He sighed inwardly as he felt a familiar rush of warmth spread across his skin, a pulsing need opening in his lower abdomen. He stretched himself out, stomach-down, elbows pressed against the tarp he'd draped over the dirty tiles, and peered down the barrel of the sniper rifle.

In his mind's eye, Goemon was undressing, taut skin stretched over wiry muscles, a dusting of fine black hair leading Jigen's eye down from the chest to the navel and finally to a treasure better than all the dumb, cold rocks in the world. Jigen's breath caught as he felt his erection growing beneath him, struggling between his hips and the hard architectural plane he was pressed against. Involuntarily, he moved himself against the hard surface, regretting it as soon as he did, knowing how hard it’d be to calm himself down, now. 

Goemon may have been a terrible liar, but he was perceptive, and Jigen nearly jumped as he felt the sheathed tip of Zantetsuken poking against his back, and an errant strand of the samurai's hair against his cheek. 

"Control yourself, Daisuke."

Jigen sighed heavily. "Can't hide anything from you, can I?"

Goemon said nothing, but Jigen could feel the man's cocksure, gloating smile. 

_Fuck!_ That turned him on even more. And Goemon, damn him, was doing it on purpose. 

Jigen rolled over onto his back. In the dark, his erection distorted the crotch of his trousers. 

"Wanna check the angle for me? I could use a second opinion."

Goemon stared at him for a moment, calculating the geometry of the situation. He looked powerful, towering over Jigen, a shadowed form holding his blade a few inches from Jigen's chest. 

"Check the angle of _what_ , Jigen-chan?"

Jigen's face split into a grin. His cock strained against the seam of his trousers. "My _weapon_ , of course."

"Hm." Goemon stepped forward and apart so that he was standing over Jigen with his feet on either side of the gunman's waist. He knelt, squeezing Jigen between his thighs and pressing Zantetsuken horizontally against Jigen's chest. "I am happy to assess your positioning."

Jigen bucked his hips up suddenly, his aching erection making rough, fruitless contact with Goemon's backside. The samurai gasped, and pressed Zantetsuken harder into Jigen's sternum. 

"You're a little low," said Goemon after a moment. He hadn't so much as peeked at the scope. 

Goemon had foolishly left Jigen's arms free, and the gunman took his opportunity to find the knot at the front of his hakama and pull. A flash of some defensive movement; too late. The hakama slid further over Goemon's hips, catching at his groin, revealing nothing. _Yet._

"You're getting faster," he said, his voice thick. Jigen squirmed again below him, trying to feel for whether the samurai was hard. 

"Maybe I've been practicing."

Goemon stared at him. Jigen couldn't quite see his eyes for the shadows, save for two pinpricks of reflected light, yellow from the city below. 

"You want me," he said easily, still grinning. 

"Do not tell me what I want, Daisuke."

"Then tell me I'm wrong."

Goemon was still, perfectly still, for a long moment, and Jigen had to fight to keep from moving under him, his breathing a quiet staccato percussion.

Then Zantetsuken was gone, placed neatly to the side, and Goemon began hastily unbuttoning Jigen's shirt. The gunman leaned up to kiss the samurai, and felt himself dragged forward, enough to give Goemon access to his fly. Jigen ran eager fingers under the heavy cotton of the kimono, tracing a line across Goemon's torso down to his hips, discarding fabric as he went. 

They kissed again, roughly, exposed in all the right places, clothing hanging haphazardly off their frames, undressed enough and lacking time or patience to finish the job. 

Goemon pulled away first and pushed Jigen roughly to the ground, somehow getting a hand under him fast enough to keep the gunman from cracking his head on the roof tiles. Jigen gasped as Goemon pinned him with Zantetsuken again, dragging his body over Jigen’s hips and kissing a hot trail down Jigen’s exposed stomach, wet saliva chilling in the night air. Jigen shivered, then yelped as Goemon took him in his mouth. 

“Quiet, or I’ll bite,” he said, lips moving against the head of Jigen’s cock. 

“Uh huh… _oh_... _y-yes.._.”

Jigen bit his lip and covered his face with his hands, every muscle in his body tensed against the assault of Goemon’s tongue. The samurai was nothing if not a quick study -- they hadn’t been.. doing _this…_ for all that long and Jigen wasn't even sure that Goemon had ever been with a man before him, but in a few short months he’d honed his skill to the point where he could pinpoint Jigen’s every weakness with near-infallible precision, bringing Jigen to the edge of hysteria with the kind of efficiency that would be deadly in combat. 

“Oh-- _GOD,_ Goemon, you gotta… please… not… not yet…”

Goemon dragged his tongue up Jigen’s length before detaching himself, smiling. “Too much?”

“Nnnrrgh!” Jigen let out three laboured breaths, trying desperately to get himself under enough control that he didn’t come just looking at Goemon. The samurai waited patiently. 

When at last Jigen felt like he could move, he propped himself up on his elbows. “Jesus christ. I forget how fucking powerful you are.”

“You haven’t even come yet."

"Maybe I don't wanna come in your mouth."

Goemon smiled viciously. "Perhaps it isn't all about what _you_ want." He leaned forward to run his tongue over the head of Jigen's cock again. The gunman clapped his hand over his mouth, muffling a sound of abject desperation. Gathering what composure he could find, he pushed at Goemon, bringing his knees up until the awkwardness of the position forced the samurai off of him. Drawing on some distant muscle memory of basic hand-to-hand combat training, he grabbed Goemon bodily and pitched himself into a roll, pinning the other man to the ground.

"Definitely getting faster," Goemon said with a gentle laugh, taking the opportunity to stroke himself. 

Jigen grunted, yanking at the hakama until they were around Goemon's ankles and pushing the man's knees apart, undoing the fundoshi with hasty fingers. Remembering the condom he'd brought _just in case,_ he leaned back and reached into the pocket of his half-discarded trousers. The crinkle of the foil package sounded loud on the roof. 

He knelt between Goemon's knees as if in worship, and pressed a kiss to the samurai's stomach, wrapping a hand around his cock as he did. 

"You want me."

"Mm…"

Jigen scooped a finger into the foil of the condom wrapper, getting it slick with the remaining lube, and pressed it against Goemon's opening. The samurai tensed -- it was _this_ part, in particular, that made Jigen think Goemon was a little new to this whole anal sex thing. Those almost… _virginal_ sounds that would come from the samurai when they fucked drove Jigen absolutely wild in a way that he dared not examine too closely. 

He pressed the finger in. Goemon sighed. Jigen curled forward to find Goemon's cock, stiff and warm and heavy in his mouth.

Goemon moved under him, fighting against himself, fighting against Jigen's fingers and tongue, two hands meeting on the samurai's bare stomach. 

"Jigen… _please..._ "

You _want_ me."

" _Yes._ "

In one quick motion Jigen withdrew his fingers, lapping at Goemon's shaft as he gripped himself.

"You're so good to me, babe," he whispered, pressing himself into his partner. 

And _there_ was the sound, _there_ was the heat, the _need_ , as Goemon lost his war in stages, writhing under Jigen and muttering obscenities in Japanese, grabbing himself and jerking with wanton disregard for any of the composure that he normally shrouded himself in. Jigen gasped as he felt Goemon flex and tighten around him, taking him as deep as seemed possible, Jigen grabbing Goemon's thighs and pushing them up to open the man, thrusting deeper, harder.

Their breathing became deafening, gasps and moans signalling the very edge of pain, as Jigen quickened his pace in rhythm with the faltering jumps and tugs of Goemon's hand. And ah, the _vindication_ as Goemon came first, crying out with such unabashed sweetness that Jigen felt the moment of losing control as a kind of burst of pure, innocent love, and broke out into a grin as he came, his own shudders matching Goemon's as the samurai's stomach tensed, slick and smearing with white under their hands. Jigen laughed as the shudders subsided, and Goemon was smiling too, though too spent to offer anything more than a hoarse, wheezing chuckle. 

Jigen was still wrapped up in the afterglow of it when he felt the buzz of the cell. Thank god his pants were still _partly_ on. He grabbed it, frantic, and held it to his ear. 

“Oy, Jigen,” said Lupin on the other line. “You ready to rock?”

"...yeah."

“...you sound out of breath, everything good?"

"Huh… yeah I was just doing some… stretching."

"Uh huh. Well, it's none of my business, but maybe you and Goemon can save the calisthenics for when we're _not_ on a job, huh?"

"Like you and Fuji have never… _wait_."

"Hah! I knew it! Nice, sweetheart. Time to get our shit together. This is your signal."

"Right," said Jigen, rubbing his eyes. _Lupin… for a dumbass, you’re pretty goddamn perceptive._ "I'm in position."

"Gonna need the window taken out in five… four…"

Jigen leaned forward and felt Goemon tense around his softening cock. He peered through the scope of the rifle. "Three… two…"

_Fire._

*****

In the safehouse, hours later, as Lupin examined the opal at his desk, Goemon turned to Jigen and said, 

"so… did I improve your aim?"


End file.
